2025: On Trust, Timing, and Letting Go

 

The year began with renewed optimism, the quiet declaration that 2025 would be the year we bounce back. The past two years had weighed heavily on us, especially financially. While we were still making ends meet, there was no room for flexibility, no buffer when life demanded more. That kind of pressure seeps into everything: how you plan, how you dream, and how you breathe.

Then January brought good news. JD was accepted to YSEALI. We had prayed for this: for him to experience the U.S., to broaden his horizons, to grow beyond what was familiar. I was genuinely happy for him. Truly. And I remember telling myself, my time will come too. The anticipation is just part of the waiting.

And it did come. Quietly, unexpectedly.

At the start of April, right when we needed it most, a new opportunity arrived. The timing felt almost unreal. I had just borrowed money from a friend to get by, and the very next day, the prayer I had been carrying was answered. I said yes to the hustle. It was demanding, but it was rewarding. For a moment, it felt like the breakthrough I had been holding my breath for. This was my first lesson of the year: breakthroughs don’t always arrive with confetti and certainty. Sometimes, they come disguised as urgency, risk, and the need to say yes before you feel fully ready.

But breakthroughs, I learned, often come with heartbreak.

This year, I parted ways with an organization I had consulted for over four years. It wasn’t easy. There was grief in letting go. Of familiarity, of stability, of something I had poured myself into for so long. Yet in that loss, I was reminded that letting go is not the same as failing. Sometimes, it is an act of trust. Making space can hurt, but it creates room for things that are more aligned with who you are becoming.

And almost immediately, that space was filled.

Another consultancy came in, this time with better pay, yes, but more importantly, with trust. Trust in my ideas. Trust in my voice. Trust that what I bring to the table matters. I realized that compensation is only one part of the equation; being seen, respected, and believed in carries a weight of its own. This year taught me that I am allowed to take up space, and that doing so is not arrogance, but self-respect.

That came with a tradeoff.

The days blurred into constant work. I woke up thinking about it, spent my days consumed by it, and even carried it into my dreams. I rarely paused long enough to celebrate my wins. Somewhere along the way, I found myself asking a question I never thought I would ask: How can you finally earn enough, yet still feel like you don’t have the time to live? I learned that financial stability does not automatically lead to fulfillment, and that busyness, no matter how productive, can quietly cost you joy, rest, and presence.

In the middle of all that motion, the year asked us to slow down in the most painful way. After months of fighting for his health, we lost Charlie. His passing didn’t arrive loudly. It came quietly, and it changed the rhythm of our days. He had been part of our everyday life, woven into routines we didn’t realize were sacred until they were gone. Grieving him while life continued to move forward taught me something difficult and tender: that love doesn’t disappear when someone rests. It simply changes form. Grief, I learned, is love with nowhere to go, and honoring it meant allowing myself to feel, even when it was inconvenient.

After that, something in me softened, and something in me grew heavier.

Alongside the busyness were quieter, heavier battles. I wrestled with doubt. Watching others achieve what they set out to do made me question my own path, my worth, my direction. I wondered if my role was simply to cheer from the sidelines, to do the work expected of me, nothing more. The feeling lingered longer than I wanted it to. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. And what this season taught me was that comparison is subtle but relentless. It doesn’t shout, it whispers, until you begin to doubt everything you once believed about yourself.

I once said, in my 2024 yearender, that I loved mundane days: the slowness, the stillness, the quiet. But this year showed me that silence feels different when it’s filled with self-doubt. Stillness can be peaceful, but it can also be loud when your mind is crowded with thoughts of not being enough. I learned that inner work cannot be postponed; unanswered questions will always find their way into the quiet.

Still, I know I have much to be grateful for.

New hustles. The chance to return to school and pursue a Master’s degree (officially enrolled for 2nd sem yay!). The fact that, despite everything, we did not face a major financial crisis. This year taught me that gratitude does not cancel out struggle. You can be deeply blessed and still feel lost. You can be thankful and tired at the same time. Both truths are allowed to exist without invalidating each other.

As the year began to wind down, we made another quiet but meaningful decision. We moved out of our apartment of four years. This time, it wasn’t driven by urgency or lack, but by intention. The place we moved into was smaller, but it was nicer, calmer, and felt more aligned with the life we were trying to build. By then, I had learned that growth doesn’t always look like upgrading or expanding. Sometimes it looks like choosing what supports your peace. Letting go of that space felt less like loss and more like affirmation: that after all the striving, it was okay to choose ease, clarity, and comfort.

I know that comparison steals joy. I know I don’t need to measure my life against the victories of others. I know these things intellectually, but belief is a practice, not a switch. It takes time. It takes intention. It takes choosing, again and again, to trust your own timeline. What I know for sure is that my feelings were real. They were valid. And even if others don’t fully understand them, honoring them is already an act of healing.

If 2025 taught me anything, it’s that growth isn’t always loud or obvious. It doesn’t always look like dramatic wins, public milestones, or moments that feel instantly satisfying. Sometimes growth is quiet and uncomfortable. It looks like holding on when everything feels uncertain, when faith has to work overtime, when patience is tested, and when the outcome isn’t clear. It also looks like letting go when it hurts: releasing people, roles, and versions of yourself that once felt safe but no longer fit who you are becoming. This year taught me that progress is not always about moving faster or achieving more; sometimes it’s about staying when you want to run, and walking away when you want to hold on. It’s about trusting that even the unseen, uncelebrated choices are shaping you into someone stronger, wiser, and more grounded than before.

And maybe growth, in its truest form, isn’t about arriving at a destination at all. Maybe it’s about learning how to remain whole while you’re still on the way.

Thirty things I learned at 30: A letter to my 31-year-old self

 

As I step into my 31st year on this earth, I carry with me the lessons that shaped me, the pain that stretched me, and the love that kept me going. My 30s have been a mix of loss and discovery, of letting go and holding on, of quiet realizations and loud awakenings. They have softened me and made me stronger all at once.

Here are thirty things I learned in my 30s — lessons carved into my heart, whispered by time, and sometimes, painfully taught.

1. Healing is not linear. I lost my mom, and with her, I lost a part of myself. Grief is a storm that never truly passes, but you learn to dance in the rain. Healing comes in waves—some days gentle, some days crashing, but always moving.

2. Not everything goes as planned, and that’s okay. Life rarely follows the script we write for it, but sometimes, the rewrites turn out even better.

3. Losing friends is not the end of the world. Some people are meant for a season, others for a lifetime. Cherish both.

4. Silence is golden, but connection matters too. I used to thrive in the chaos of social life, but now I find peace in quiet moments, in solitude, in the stillness of my own thoughts. That said, the right people—the ones who truly understand you—are worth making space for.

5. Manifesting works, but so does action. Dreaming without doing is just wishing. Envision the life you want, then take the steps to make it real.

6. Life is not bad every day. Some days are heavy, but most are light. Even in the hardest seasons, there is always something good, even in the smallest moments.

7. Embracing sadness is as important as embracing joy. You cannot numb pain without also numbing happiness. Feel everything—it’s all proof that you are alive.

8. The little things matter more than we think. The way the sun hits your skin in the morning. The text that says, “Thinking of you.” The quiet “I’m proud of you” from someone who matters. These are the moments that make life beautiful.

9. Hard work pays off, but only if you have the energy to enjoy it. Hustle, but don’t burn out. Success means nothing if you’re too exhausted to live the life you worked for.

10. Keep being giving. My mom always taught me this, and I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. Kindness never depletes you—it multiplies.

11. Your body is your longest commitment. Eat well, move often, and don’t take your health for granted.

12. Never underestimate the power of sunscreen. Future you will thank you.

13. Love yourself like you love your best friend. Speak to yourself kindly. Forgive yourself easily. Cheer for yourself loudly.

14. Find what truly matters and hold on to it. Whether it’s a passion, a person, or a purpose—prioritize it.

15. Journaling is therapy. Writing things down makes the weight of them easier to carry.

16. Mundane days are part of a meaningful life. Not every day has to be exciting to be worthwhile. The quiet, uneventful days are often the ones that bring the most peace. Growth and ambition are important, but so is being present in the simple moments.

17. Being ‘woke’ is necessary. We live in a time where silence is complicity. Stand for what is right, even when it’s uncomfortable.

18. Celebrate the success of others. Someone else’s victory does not diminish your own. Let it inspire you instead.

19. Learn to fight for yourself. Not everyone will, and that’s okay. Be your own advocate.

20. There are people silently rooting for you. Even when it doesn’t feel like it, you are loved. You are seen. You are not alone.

21. Tell people you love them—often and without hesitation. You never know when it will be the last time.

22. You are not behind. Life is not a race, but a journey. Trust your own timeline, and don’t let comparison steal your peace.

23. Mistakes are part of the process. Give yourself grace—learning comes from getting things wrong and trying again.

24. Protect your time and energy. Don’t say yes to everything; overcommitting leads to burnout, and underdelivering only brings guilt.

25. Walk your talk. Be consistent in your words and actions—integrity is built in the everyday choices you make.

26. Find beauty in every part of your journey. The wins, the losses, the detours, and the breakthroughs—all of them make your story whole.

27. Go see the world. Travel opens your mind, humbles your soul, and reminds you how big and beautiful life truly is.

28. Balance hope with action. Stay optimistic, but don’t lose sight of reality—dream big, but work for it too.

29. Push your limits, but honor your pace. Growth happens when you step outside your comfort zone, but that doesn’t mean rushing the process. Stretch yourself, but don’t break yourself.

30. Thirty was not the end of youth—it was the beginning of wisdom. And if my 30s have taught me this much already, I cannot wait to see what 31 will bring.

Here’s to another year of learning, of loving, of living.

2024: A Year of Surviving, Growing, and Finding Gratitude

This year, I barely lived. I just existed. Every day felt like a fight to get through, especially with the weight of financial challenges constantly pressing on me. It often felt like the world was against me, throwing one obstacle after another my way. But somehow, I managed to survive.

In my lowest moments, I often thought of my mom. She was an amazing problem solver, always finding ways to make things work even in the direst situations. I’m so grateful to have inherited that part of her. Whenever life felt too heavy, her memory gave me strength, reminding me that I could figure things out too.

And then there’s JD—my partner, my rock, my reminder that I don’t have to face everything alone. He has been my constant source of support, helping me navigate each day’s challenges. He taught me what true partnership means: showing up for each other, even when the days are dark. I am endlessly grateful for his presence in my life.

Despite the financial limitations, JD and I managed to create beautiful memories this year through travel. In Vietnam, we marveled at the cool, refreshing weather that felt like a gentle embrace after a year of storms. The culture was vibrant, the food was unforgettable, and every street seemed to tell its own story. Walking through the bustling markets and serene landscapes, I felt a spark of hope—a reminder that the world is vast, and there are so many possibilities waiting to be explored.

Taiwan, on the other hand, felt like coming home. Having visited four times now, it holds a special place in my heart. This trip wasn’t about discovering new sights or chasing adventures. Instead, we embraced the familiar, the mundane, and the quiet joy of simply being present. Whether it was savoring local delicacies, wandering through night markets, or sitting and drinking our usual cups of coffee at Starbucks, we allowed ourselves to soak in the moment. Taiwan reminded me that even in the midst of chaos, there is peace to be found in the everyday.

This year, I also made a conscious decision to distance myself from people who bring negativity into my life. I realized I don’t have the energy to deal with “friends” who only show up when it’s convenient for them. Too often, I’ve felt like an afterthought, the last person anyone remembers. But I know my worth—I love fiercely, protect wholeheartedly, and give my all in friendships. This year, I decided to only give back the energy I receive. Life is hard enough without people who don’t value you the way you deserve.

Professionally, 2024 was a year of growth. I revamped processes to make things more efficient, brought creative ideas to life, and played an integral role in key projects and campaigns. It felt like the best version of myself finally broke free, and I’m grateful my colleagues saw and celebrated that. It reminded me how much collaboration and support can elevate us all.

Amid the chaos, I found solace in the mundane. I learned to appreciate the quiet moments—playing games over a cup of coffee, soaking in the silence, and finding joy in the little things we do every day. These small moments reminded me that life isn’t just about the big milestones but also about the beauty in the ordinary.

If there are takeaways from this year, they're these: I am not alone. I am capable. I have a backup. People may try to dim my light, but there are far more who cheer for me to shine.

Here’s to surviving 2024 and to welcoming a new year with hope, strength, and gratitude.

2017: The things that matter

This year has been generally generous to me, but really, it was a year of momentous ups and terrible downs. 2017 was the year of pursuing my heart’s desires, of learning to give up and to accept life’s crests and troughs. Little did I know, these lessons lead me to realize the things that matter. 

Campus' maiden issue

2017 was the year that Philippine Star Campus was born. From vision to fruition, seeing it finally come to life was nothing sort of spectacular. Seeing the first prints of this awesome page felt like giving birth — and yes it has its fair share of pains. Handling this section was difficult, but it gave me more reasons to love my job even more. 

Philippine Star's /Social Team

My work life in the paper (as an editor and social media head) just got tougher, but it became more interesting. Seeing how the industry works in two different perspectives (traditional and digital) made me more aware of the current business situation. It opened my mind to the challenge of reconciling these two platforms and make them coexist for varied markets, and it wasn’t really easy. I can’t say I did a nice job, but I can say that I did what I have to do. 

Also because of work, I was able to see Coldplay, the band I love for more than a decade now. I was tasked to cover their concert, but to my surprise, Entertainment Editor Ricky Lo tagged me along for the exclusive interview with some of the band members. Guy Berryman and Will Champion were assigned to us, and at that moment, may nanalo na.

Will Champion, me, and Guy Berryman

Perhaps one of the highlights of my 2017 was the day I became a professor. This year, I was invited to teach journalism subjects at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines — Manila, and I never hesitated to say yes. To teach was my biggest dream, let alone teaching in a public institution. As a student honed by public schools from Nursery to College, I knew I have to give back. On my first semester, I was given four 3-unit classes: two Online Journalism classes, a Media Laws class, and a Visual Journalism Class. 

One of the first classes I handled, Batch Halimaw (because they're online journalism beasts)

Being a millennial educator, I had one goal in mind: to make my students love the industry. I want them to embrace the world they will soon be part of. I want them to understand that journalism isn’t only a concept, but a practice. So, as much as possible, I intertwined current events and trends in my class, so that they’ll realize that the industry is ever-evolving, so are the writing process and style. To receive good feedback (through evaluations, where I got a “Highly Satisfactory” remark) meant I was doing a nice job. 

This year, I was invited to tons of speaking engagements where I met a lot of good friends who share the same passion as mine. I met other young journalist-educators like Ramon who travels the Philippines to teach and train aspiring journalists; Rupert who also juggles his full-time work and being in the community of campus journalists; and Ced whose work is aligned with social media but still manages to once in a while join the group of trainers. Seeing young, passionate people like them sharing what they know give me hope for the future. 

Ramon, Rupert, and Ced

2017 was also the year I was able to travel abroad. To leave the country for the first time gave me a lot of worries and fears. Cultural and language differences were only two of many challenges I faced, but I was able to survive the journey, thanks to Timothy, the guy I met from Couchsurfing, who really took time and effort to bring me to his country’s best places. 

Tim, the friend I made in Taiwan

Tim the Taiwanese allowed me to couchsurf in his family’s home — and to make me experience authentic Taiwanese culture was just an extra. His family was so generous and genuinely nice, and I saw how at some point — their culture was similar to ours. Tim and I kept in touch, and I consider him as a really good friend. 

This trip opened my eyes to the beauty of other cultures — something I never thought I’d really experience. It made me understand other cultures on a personal level, and I know it was just the beginning. This 2018, I am bound to Kota Kinabalu, and I am more than excited to immerse in another foreign country’s customs and traditions. 

There were so many things to celebrate, but there were also moments of losses. They’re pretty much big, and they shattered me to pieces. 

Jarem and I broke up on my birthday. After a year and three months, the good ride came to an end. It wasn’t a good breakup, to be honest. We ended the relationship through text and Facebook messages, and hell, it really devastated me. I loved him so much that I did everything for us to stay. But good things come to an end, really, but I just wished we ended up in a different way. 

The friends who "saved" me. I love these guys so much!

This breakup, however, made me see how many friends I have — the people I seemed to ignore because I was high of love. They were there, my various circle of friends, to console me and make me realize that it is over for us, but it’s not over for me. My good friend, Royce, put it to words: I lost myself in finding him; I gave my all and left myself with nothing. So the few weeks after, I focused on knowing my worth and leaving the heartache behind. 

My last photo with Nanay Angela

Life has its way to hurt you more, and there is nothing more hurtful than losing a family member. Nanay Angela, my grandmother from my mother’s side died last May 21. After battling a lot of diseases, Nanay surrendered to the Lord and left us. It was the most devastating point of my life, because Nanay Angela was one of my closest family member. She was there since I was young, and she was the one who supported me in all my endeavors. I don’t think I have fully moved on from her loss, but knowing that she is now okay in the hands of her Creator makes me feel better. Nanay Angela, I know you’re up there and reading this, and I just want you to know that we love you so much. Today’s the first New Year’s eve without you, but in our hearts, we celebrate with you. 

We lose some, we gain some. 

After weeks of moving on, I knew I was ready for another relationship. It was first of April when JD and I first met in Bellini’s in Cubao. We talked about a lot of things, and we realized that we have a lot of mutual interests: Indie music, indie films, the love for the law and human rights, among others. We really had a good talk, and I think we were both interested with each other. After quite some time, JD courted me, and I gave my yes last June 1. (Special thanks to Jeka Dela Rosa, a good friend from Chef Laudico Guevarra’s for helping me put up the best way to say yes! I love you, always!) 

June 1, the day I said yes to JD.

JD is a great person. His intentions are pure and his actions showed how serious he takes relationships. That’s what I liked about him: He will show you how serious he is that you will never second-guess his intentions. He made me feel that I can also receive love and affection. He constantly reminds me of his love, and never falters to do moves that will make me happy. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but all I know is that he’s giving me the best days of my life. 

Our first month together, and he surprised me. 

This year, I also did a big move, that is, to live with him. It was actually not a big deal for me, but surprisingly, living in with your partner was a big thing for others. Don’t get me wrong: I thought of this decision over and over again, but hell, I wanted to be home with the one I love the most. JD is my home, my comfort, my constant reminder of how things can possibly go the right way. 

Our relationship was far from perfect. We have a lot of ups and downs. But our decision to live together made us realize that problems are easily solved when you are together to talk about it. We don’t use escape routes and leave the problem hanging because we both value conflict resolution. And I think that is the key: constant communication. Constant reassurance that all is well. 

This year was a year of knowing the things that matter. 

I realized how important family is. They are my constants. And no matter what happens, they are there to pick me up and make me understand that it’s okay to fail. 

This 2017, I saw my friends who will be there on my victories and defeats, and they will never sugarcoat anything just to make me feel okay. They will always tell the truth, no matter how hurtful it is, but they will also offer their advice and words of wisdom when they feel I need it. 

I also realized that someone who values you will always make you feel that you are worthy of the things you have. That person will never tell you you are not enough. He will make you feel that you are appreciated and valued. 

I realized that there are always better things along the way when I take a step forward in the right direction. And along the way of pursuing what matters, I realized that I don’t have to look far because I matter, too. 

Thank you, 2017, for a great ride. 

"Along the way of pursuing what matters, I realized that I don’t have to look far because I matter, too. "